


Oswald's Mistake

by ShadowHeart405



Series: The Thin Line Betwixt Light and Dark [2]
Category: Fran Bow (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Possible Spoilers, canon-typical non-graphic violence, character examination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHeart405/pseuds/ShadowHeart405
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Oswald learns what it means to meddle in the affairs of the Prince of Darkness one time too many; and Fran Bow learns that terrible things can be beautiful at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oswald's Mistake

Dr. Oswald groaned as he came to, putting a hand to his head as he felt something sticky along his hair line. The last thing he remembered was shooting his subject, relieved to finally have full access to study her brain. 

“Grace?” He called out experimentally, his voice cracked and haggard. How long had he been passed out? His heart sped up slightly as he heard a distinct and familiar clack, clack of heeled boots approaching him. He could feel primordial fear seep into his bones as the sound got closer, causing him to shudder. He knew full well who approached him as he lay on the floor, helpless, even before the figure came into view. 

“Remor…” Dr. Oswald breathed, the name sounding like a prayer and a curse at the same time. 

Remor stood before the fallen Doctor, head titling to one side. Somehow, Oswald knew he had been pulled into the Fifth Reality, the Reality of Darkness and Fear. He could not tell if Remor looked at him with curiosity or hatred, while many he had experimented on in the past had learned ways to tell what Remor was thinking behind the goat-mask Oswald himself had never looked too deep into the moods of the Prince of Darkness. He had once thought that Remor was under his control, content to feed off of the despair and fear that permeated the Asylum and kept the Kamalas close enough to study their effect on humans and the Third Reality. Slowly, it was dawning on Dr. Oswald that he had never been the one in control… 

Remor knelt down in front of Dr. Oswald, looking over his withered and useless legs, making a tutting noise in his throat. The action made Oswald painfully aware of the fact his wheelchair was missing. 

“My, my, Dr. Oswald, you have gotten yourself into a predicament…” Remor mused. Dr. Oswald swallowed, his eyes leaving Remor to glance at the swirling shadows behind the Prince of Darkness. He could hear the whispers of the Kamalas, repeating the words Remor had said, most fixating on the word “predicament” while others laughed in a menacing manner. 

“Remor… I believe you and I had an agreement…” Dr. Oswald began. 

“Terrible Black!” “Prince of Darkness!” The Kamalas began to whisper in harsh tones, a hundred pairs of glowing eyes focusing on Dr. Oswald, their voices filled with distaste for the casual way in which he referred to their leader. Throughout his research, Oswald had discovered that Kamalas were rather weak and frightened creatures at their very core but their loyalty to Remor was rock-solid and they would actively defend his honor if pressed. 

“The key word there is HAD, Dr. Oswald,” Remor stated, standing back up and moving to examine a shelf that had made its way into the Fifth Reality. The Prince of Darkness pulled a book off of the shelf, beginning to thumb through it. Dr. Oswald recognized it as some of his own personal notes on the work he had been doing. The Kamalas that had come with Remor fanned out, moving around Oswald in a menacing manner as they settled down almost like an honor guard with their attention shifting between Remor and himself. Remor looked back to Oswald, shutting the book and carelessly tossing it over a shoulder before he turned and leaned back against the shelf, arms crossed. 

“You were allowed to study those who were Awakened, despite the fact you have ruined my own plans and work on several occasions. You had your use Doctor, you were a beautiful way to deliver pain and suffering – the fuel for the crucible of change – but it has become quite clear that your research is far more harmful than it is beneficial to my purposes,” Remor said. Oswald heard the Kamalas around him shift and whisper again, this time he was unable to discern any one single word as they spoke too fast and too low. Dr. Oswald swallowed as he watched Remor shift his weight from one foot to the other. He quickly looked around himself, trying to find some means of escape. Lying not far from him was his gun, in fact it was within easy reach. The bullets he knew were made of iron, specifically created so that he could deal with the creatures of other realities that he encountered in his work. 

Quickly, he snatched up the gun and fired off two shots at Remor, not realizing his mistake. One hit the Dark Prince square in the left shoulder, the other landing right in the forehead of the goat skull Shield Remor wore over his face, knocking it out of place. 

"Traitor!" "Devour him!" "None attack the Terrible Black!" The Kamalas all began to yell and swarm about Dr. Oswald, hiding Remor from sight as they pressed in close to the downed man. He did not see Remor stumble back, Shield falling away from his face, as he clutched his wounded shoulder. He did not see the expression of pain or grim determination on the fair face that lie under the Shield and Shroud that Remor wore for protection against the power of the Great Valokas. In fact Dr. Oswald would never again see anything at all as the Kamalas began to devour his very essence in retribution for harming their Prince. 

Remor watched his Kamalas begin to devour Oswald, stripping away his being layer by layer till nothing was left. It made up for the pain in his shoulder, the festering iron beginning to make his vision swim. Without thinking of a proper destination he opened up a portal behind himself that he stumbled back into, knowing his Kamalas would finish the job without prompting. Their loyalty ran deep and was unwavering. He took comfort in that as his vision swam and slowly went black. 

-x-x- 

"Move him carefully. That's iron and will rip his arm off it we're not careful!" 

"Wouldn't that be an improvement for us?" 

"Only if you wish Mother Mabuka to fully awaken and destroy everything in sight." 

"As if she would...." 

"You want to test that theory, Palontras?" 

"....." 

"That's what I thought, now give me a hand and be careful." 

In a daze of pain and iron-weakness Remor only heard snippets of conversations between whoever had found him after he collapsed through his portal, unsure of where exactly he had gone. 

"Where's his Shield? Is he safe here without it?" 

"He has his Shroud, use it to cover his face while he recovers. That should buy him time to reclaim the Shield." 

"When was the last time you saw him without it?" 

".... After the battle with Great Valokas." 

"His fath-" 

Remor let out a scream of pain as the bullet was withdrawn from his shoulder. He then heard no more as his body went numb and cold, mind adrift in darkness. 

-x-x- 

"Fran.... We shouldn't be here."

Remor was stirred from his rest by the hiss of a small Kamala that lay next to his head on the pillow. It seemed to have been the only Kamala brave - or stupid- enough to follow the injured Remor and keep an eye on him as he recovered. 

"Cat.... Little cat and little, marked girl.... Come no closer to my Prince....." The Kamala hissed. Remor chuckled as he reached towards the little Kamala in a reassuring manner. He heard Fran's gentle gasp of surprise and could see the tableau in his mind's eye of Fran, small and frightened by his mere presence, guarded by an even smaller but very determined black cat whose fur was puffed up in an attempt to look larger and more impressive. The vision made him chuckle softly as he moved to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, his Kamala companion zipping up into his uninjured right shoulder to watch their "guests" and giving a second warning hiss. 

"Hush," Remor commanded. The Kamala hid beneath his Shroud, burrowing under his hair and gave an apologetic nip of acknowledgement on his neck. The creature about his neck gave Remor comfort and strength, sharing what little despair it had managed to collect with it's prince to help him heal. 

"Are you okay?" Remor heard Fran ask, glancing over to the girl. He followed her eye line to his left shoulder that was wrapped up in clean, white gauze. He moved to tug the wrapping away, revealing a new scar. It looked more akin to the scar of a lightning strike than a bullet wound. 

"Such concern," Remor commented as he flexed his hand and arm, then rolled his shoulder to test his current mobility. Everything seemed to be in working order, so the iron had to have been removed quickly and cleanly by skilled hands. 

"They didn't want me to know you were here, but I saw them bring you in.... It looked bad," Fran stated, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. 

"Alas, not bad enough to end my existence... Right?" Remor taunted lightly, glancing back at Fran. Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. 

"No! Why would you think that?" She asked. Remor chuckled again.

"The Terrible Black, Prince of Darkness, remember?" 

Fran lightly scuffed her boot, looking down. "What caused that, anyways...." 

"Dr. Oswald," Remor replied, leaning back till torso was relaxed on the bed, propped up by an elbow. 

"He shot you too?" Fran asked, looking back up. Remor nodded. 

"If not for my Shield, you would no longer have to concern yourself with my existence," Remor stated truthfully. "The Kamalas swarmed him for that transgression, it is certain that he is no more." 

"Good...." Remor heard Fran whisper. A small smile graced his lips, there was still a little darkness left in her after all... She wouldn't of been able to survive in the Fifth Realm if she had rejected all of those parts of herself. 

"So.... The goat-face was a Shield. I thought it was your real face," Fran commented. 

"Do you wish to look upon the face of your fearsome opponent? Come, Fran Bow, face me and know what lies user the Shroud of Darkness!" Remor declared. 

"Fran!" Mr. Midnight called out in warning, but it was too late. Remor had stood up, drawing to his full height, and pulled his shroud away from his face. However, he knew from experience what the girl's reaction would be. 

Remor's true face was beautiful in an odd way, the perfect mix of Mabuka and He Who Fathered him. His skin tone was that of a freshly dead corpse, face angular and slightly sunken in his cheeks and eye-sockets, but those features somehow only enhanced the terrible beauty that he was "cursed" with. Blood-red hair hung in his eyes and touched his shoulders, while his eyes were a piercing yellow. 

Fran was frozen in place, her eyes wide and full of awe. She shrunk back after a moment, knowing what Remor was capable of doing if he so wished. Remor smirked, looking like a predator that had just caught scent of wounded prey. He was beautiful and terrible and knew it. 

"Fran!" A new voice called out. Itward rounded the corner, moving to place himself between Fran and Remor, providing her with a body-shield. Remor shrunk back a bit, but still smirked as the Walker Between the Worlds stood between them with a disapproving look on his face. 

"Ah, Itward.... Good to see you," Remor commented airily. 

"Your Highness.... It appears you are well on your way to recovery," Itward said.

"That I am, and Oswald will not be able to interfere in our affairs any longer," Remor replied. He could see the anger and relief in Itward's eyes. The Doctor had also shot Fran, after all, but Itward would not reveal his connection with Remor to Fran, not yet at any rate. She simply wasn't ready yet. 

"The King is concerned by your presence in Ithersta, he asks that in return for allowing you safe haven to recover you keep the Kamalas out of Ithersta for three years," Itward said, tone very businesslike. 

"As he wishes, tell him he need not worry any longer. I shall be taking my leave," Remor stated, moving to put his robes back on. He had been stripped down to his trousers in order to gain access to the bullet wound. He also replaced his Shroud, covering his hair and wrapping the long tails around his neck to create a cowl. Once that was accomplished, he opened a portal in front of himself. 

"Till our next meeting, Fran Bow, Itward," Remor said before walking into the portal, closing it behind himself. 

Itward let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. He wasn't looking forward to explaining all this to Fran. 

"Itward?" Fran asked, the Skeleton turned to face her, about to apologize for Remor's appearance but she got her question out first. "Why is something so pretty so terrible?"

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2/4. Next part: Mabuka's Beloved.


End file.
